


hallowed child

by kendrasaunders, Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, Post 4x03 Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendrasaunders/pseuds/kendrasaunders, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nyssa pays a visit to see the revived, chained sara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hallowed child

She goes down to see Sara.

Of course she does. It’s not like she’d had any real choice.

Yes, they’d thrown her into a cell for a couple of hours. But did Malcolm Merlyn really think she’d stay put?

If he had, he should’ve picked a better guard.

She almost snickers at that. If he’d wanted her to stay, he shouldn’t have imprisoned her where she grew up. She knew those cells like she knew her own room.

A troubling thing to say, perhaps. But she couldn’t be bothered by it.

She’d considered stopping and brewing a pot of tea. Really rubbing in his face just how little power he actually held.

He held enough. Enough to do this to Sara, to her Sara, to the woman he killed like she’s nothing more than-

A monster. A science project. A theoretical, and not a human woman.

She looks forward to the day she frees Merlyn’s head from his shoulders. One clean cut, and the damn, bloated thing will go sailing in mid-air.

It will be breathtaking.

But not enough.

Nothing will be enough. This is unfixable.

And the weight of it is-

She blames herself.

If she’d been braver. Bolder. A little more willing to stand up to her father. She could’ve brought Sara back within a couple of weeks.

Not a year.

Not when she’d been rotting in that box. Alone.

She hadn’t even looked like herself. And that’s unsurprising. Corpses were not pleasant things.

If she’d just been braver. If she hadn’t always been so scared.

It’s a null point. She couldn’t have done it. She’d been too well trained.

And Sara had rotted for it.

Nyssa swallows the bile in her throat, and descends.

 

The man standing watch should at least have the decency to ask questions.

Instead, he just steps aside.

Like Nyssa is just that pitiful. Like she doesn’t deserve a fight.

It sickens her.

That, she tells herself, is what sickens her. The pity. The pity because she’d once had the raw audacity to fall in love.

And this is what it got her.

No. This is what it got Sara.

Because if Nyssa hadn’t fallen, if she’d just let her go the first time, if she’d just-

Done something else. Anything else.

(And Sara’s eyes had been so sunken in.)

She sucks in a breath.“Hello, Sara.”

She’d thought of calling her the other name. The preferred one, the one she loved.

It felt wrong to say.

Though she is chained up.

Caged like a canary.

Nyssa is going to be sick. Perhaps not in this moment, but later. She knows it’s coming.

Sara tugs against her bonds. Snarls.

Not a girl. Not Sara. An animal.

Nyssa reaches for her dagger.

(She is in a new city and she has come to take Sara home. She doesn’t know if it will be by force or otherwise. And there is Sara, standing in the cold, wearing the jacket Nyssa got her all those years ago. The only thing Nyssa can do is sheath her blade.)

This is not Sara. This is not Sara at all.

This-

This is wrong. This is inhumane. She’s not even fully coherent. Just angry and scared and violent.

It’s a body without a soul. A desecration of a memory.

Nyssa pulls her blade all the way out of it its sheath.

Sara is owed this mercy. This last gift.

Laurel will never forgive her.

And for just a moment, that makes Nyssa hesitate.

She shakes her head. This is for Laurel’s own good. This thing, this beast with Sara’s face-

It will break Laurel’s heart.

She’ll be angry, of course. But one day, she’ll realize it’s for the best. That Nyssa only had her best interests at heart.

That Nyssa only ever meant to protect Sara. Even now. So long after she failed.

It will be quick.

 

She breathes. And Sara-

Sara just stares. Through messy hair and glassy eyes.

It’s not her. It’s not Sara.

And it will be painless. Nyssa knows how to gift a quick and easy death.

“Sara,” she says. And she shouldn’t speak to it. She shouldn’t try. “Do you remember me?”

A grunt. The rattling of chains.

“Do you want me to do this?” Nyssa asks. 

She shows Sara the blade. Lets it glint in the low light, like it will mean anything at all.

“Tell me not to,” Nyssa says. “Tell me you’re there.”

Sara glances at Nyssa’s knife.

Says nothing, but shifts back.

Fear. She can feel fear.

But any animal can. That’s just instinct. It means nothing.

 

Because-

Because-

Nyssa had almost tricked herself, in that first moment. Sara’s head had come above water, and-

There had been recognition. They’d met eyes, and Nyssa had seen her spark. And for a fraction of a second, she thought she’d been wrong. That it could work. That it would all be alright.

Hope is foolish. And Nyssa is no fool.

She takes a handful of Sara’s hair. It feels brittle. Stringy.

Nyssa had loved that hair. Like spun gold. But brighter.

She’d loved Sara.

But Sara’s gone.

Sara whines in distress. Tries to pull out of Nyssa’s grip, but the chains hold her in place. 

Nyssa can’t look at her. She can’t, or she’ll lose her nerve. “I’m sorry, Ta-er al-Asfer.”

 

She places the tip of her dagger right under Sara’s jaw.

It will be quick. Over before anyone knows.

And Sara-

Sara is dead. Sara is dead.

Sara whimpers.

Like she’s wounded. Like Nyssa is hurting her.

And Nyssa is hurting her, so that’s fair.

“Please,” Nyssa says. “Please. It’s for your own good, you’re not-”

“Please,” Sara repeats. In a gasp.

Nyssa makes the mistake of catching Sara’s eye.

She-

They-

The dagger falls with a clang.

She can’t do this. She’s weak. She’s always so weak. 

Too weak to save Sara.Even now, when Sara needs it most.

She touches Sara’s cheek. Expects Sara to bite at her fingers.But she doesn’t. She just stands there and stares.

Her skin feels like wax. Like something put over a wire frame.

“My love,” Nyssa says, so softly she can barely hear herself. “What have I let them do to you?”

 

 


End file.
